


Do mine eyes deceive me?

by TheRex



Series: Not broken, just different [1]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Between S2 and S3, F/M, Fluff, Hopefully not too OOC, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Fluff, Stragan - Freeform, it's only a bit sad, stragan hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRex/pseuds/TheRex
Summary: "Of all the things he could have said, Alex most certainly didn’t expect that. She didn’t say anything because she had no idea what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ felt wrong. ‘Okay’ felt too nonchalant."Richard Strand tells Alex about another reason he had for founding the Strand Institute. A deeply personal reason.





	Do mine eyes deceive me?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was spawned from a conversation with a friend who just started listening to the podcast and she was spouting out reasons for why the Strand Institute was founded. 
> 
> I hope it's not too OOC and that you enjoy it!

The VHS came to an abrupt halt, the sound of soft static replacing the mayhem seen just a few moments ago on the screen. Alex did her best to suppress a shiver, but failed. Strand and her had been watching tapes for several days now, she felt like she should be used to it. 

But no matter how many screaming banshees, mysteriously vanishing shadows and grinning demons they saw, she still continued to be scared by it. If it had been the white tapes, Strand would have a reasonable explanation and he would explain in that calm voice of his how it had been done. But this… There was a sliver of chance that this was all real. That these things were out there. That was what scared Alex. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed that Strand hadn’t moved from his spot next to her on the couch. Normally, he was up on his feet within moments to start the next DVD or VHS. Now though, he was staring at the screen with a distant look in his eyes. 

“Richard?” Alex said and cocked her head. “Everything okay?”

Instead of answering, Strand leaned over to her recorder and switched it off. 

“Hey!” She exclaimed. They had made the decision to keep recording at all times, so that they didn’t have to worry about turning a recorder on and off when they spotted something interesting. 

Alex reached out to turn the recorder back on, but Strand’s hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her. 

“I want to talk to you about something.” He said softly, his face unreadable. 

Nothing good ever came from that. Nothing good ever came after someone said that they needed to talk. Alex felt her stomach twisting. Was Strand leaving again? Had she stepped over some kind of line again? She hadn’t said anything in almost an hour, maybe that was what had upset him… 

Strand let her go and leaned back in the sofa again. Silence filled the room for what felt like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds. 

“You asked me once why I founded the Strand Institute.” Strand said, not looking at her. “What I told you then was true, but there’s another reason as well. A much more… Personal reason.”

There was another pause. Strand seemed to steel himself for something. His hands were clenching and unclenching where they lay in his lap. 

“I’m schizophrenic.” He eventually said without looking over at her. 

Of all the things he could have said, Alex most certainly didn’t expect that. She didn’t say anything because she had no idea what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ felt wrong. ‘Okay’ felt too nonchalant. But luckily for her, Strand continued. 

“I was diagnosed in my twenties, soon after Coralee disappeared. It - it was probably the stress of that event that triggered it.”

Once again, Alex didn’t say anything, waiting for Strand to continue. She had the feeling that he didn’t talk about this with a lot of people. That she had managed to tick some kind of box that qualified her for this. 

“I started seeing things in my house. At first they were just shadows out of the corner of my eye. After a while they turned into full on hallucinations. I saw demons peeking out from my closet, monsters stalking me in the corridors. I heard voices whispering to me, things laughing at me.”

Strand shuddered and clenched his fists. Alex desperately wanted to reach out and hug him. She imagined a much younger Strand, walking alone in his house after his wife disappeared and his daughter disowned him, dodging demons and devils that were very much real to him. 

“I became convinced that my house was haunted. That Coralee’s family had put a curse on me as a punishment for letting my wife walk off like that. I thought the devil himself was after me.” The words seemed to pour out of Strand, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. “So, I did what was rational to me at the time. I contacted a religious psychic. I told him that my house was haunted. I asked him to take the devil away.

“Instead of sitting me down and telling me that I needed serious medical help, he played right into my delusions. He came to my house, put on his whole spiel about how there were strong, malevolent spirits roaming the halls. He agreed to exercise the demons. For a sizeable cost, of course.”

By now, Strand seemed to have relaxed a bit. He still wasn’t looking at Alex, but he had stopped clenching his fists. 

“Things only got worse after that. My hallucinations and paranoia got worse. I didn’t eat because I thought all of my food was poisoned. I didn’t sleep, because I thought I’d be murdered, et cetera.  I locked myself in my house.

“One of the few friends that had stuck around after Coralee disappeared came to my house after not being able to contact me for several days. When he saw what state both me and my house was in, he drove me to the hospital. 

“I was admitted, diagnosed and put on anti-psychotics. They started helping, the hallucinations lessened and I slowly came back to myself.

“I was discharged after a few weeks. But after the incident with the psychic and the medical bills, I was in a pretty bad place, financially. Luckily, I had my inheritance to fall back on and though I had to be frugal for a while, I wasn’t too bad off. 

“But, I wondered what would have happened if I didn’t have that inheritance. I started wondering how often that happened. That someone in serious need of medical attention is scammed by some charlatan, paying money they should instead use to get the help they need.”

“So you founded the Strand institute to keep the same from happening to others.”

“Yes.”

Alex was reeling a bit from Strand’s story. She felt so sad for him. That he had to go through all of that on his own. But she was also immensely proud of him. In less than a year, he gone from completely and utterly broken to founding what would be an important and controversial part of the paranormal community. 

“How are you doing now?” Alex carefully asked. Talking to Strand about something personal to him was like walking in a minefield. One wrong step, the conversation would blow up and Strand would retreat back behind his carefully constructed walls. She didn’t blame him for it, it was just a bit frustrating from time to time. 

“I’m doing well, all things considered.” Strand pulled a hand through his greying hair. “I take my medicine, have frequent meetings with both my therapist and my psychiatrist.”

“Good. That’s good.” Alex nodded, mostly to herself. 

“And… That’s why I wanted your help before. Last year. With Coralee and all that.”

“You needed to know if it was real.” Alex said softly. 

“Yes.” Strand nodded. “I needed to know if I was heading for a new psychosis. In a way, I almost wish I had been.”

“Oh?” 

“If that had been the case, I would be able to get better again with the help of medication and my psychiatrist. And then the world would have gone back to making sense.”

“But it was real.”

Strand let out a sigh and seemed to sag together a bit in the sofa. 

Gently, as if reaching out towards a timid animal, Alex reached over to place her hand over his. He looked over at her, his blue eyes meeting hers. 

“Thank you for telling me.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles. “And if you ever want to talk about it more, I’m always willing to listen.”

“Thank you.” Strand said quietly before standing up, pulling away from her. “Turn the recorder back on. I think we can still squeeze in a few more tapes before lunch.”

And just like that, the moment was broken. Still, Alex was touched that Strand had been willing to share such personal information with her.

* * *

 

“Richard.” Alex said as the most recent tape came to an end. “Can we stop for tonight? I’m exhausted.”

Darkness had fallen outside the windows and it had started to rain. The light smattering against the windows and the comfortable sofa was so relaxing and not even the horrid going ons on the tapes could keep her eyelids from almost slipping shut. If Strand had asked her, she couldn’t tell him what the last tape had been about. 

“Of course.” Strand said. “You could have said something earlier.”

Alex stretched out and heard her back pop. How long had they been there? Too long. Too damn long. 

As Alex yawned and tried to wake herself up, Strand wandered around the living room, cleaning up as he went. He put tapes back in their respective places, pushed the notes he’d written into a neat pile and turned off her recorder. 

The rain increased in strength and the wind howled outside. It fit perfectly to set the mood for what they had been doing, but the prospect of driving home in it didn’t excite Alex in the least. 

“I was thinking about cooking something.” Strand said from somewhere behind the sofa. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“That would be lovely.” Alex said, enjoying the thought of putting off the drive for a while. 

“Great.” Though Strand was only wearing socks (bombas socks, which she had teased him about), Alex could hear that he padded through the living room. 

“Mind if I keep you company?” Alex chirped and got out of the sofa. She had also discarded her shoes somewhere. 

“Not at all.” He smiled. 

“Great! I’ll just go by the bathroom. Be right there.”

After her short adventure to the bathroom, Alex walked into the kitchen. While she had been gone, Strand had put on some music and shedded his flannel, leaving him in only a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt. 

During the course of her and Strand’s friendship, she had seen him in pretty much every state possible. Happy, annoyed, broken, angry… But she had never seen him like this. Relaxed, humming as he prepared their dinner. 

Her thoughts wandered back to what he’d told her earlier. It was so easy to forget that he was, in some ways, just like her. Just a normal person. That he wasn’t just the enigma she made him out to be. That he too had days he’d rather lounge around in sweatpants and eat takeout. 

“Is something the matter?” He asked after she had just been standing there, staring at him, for a good few moments. 

“Oh, no.” Alex shook her head and pulled herself out of her thoughts. “Not at all. Just spaced out a bit.”

Strand let out his signature laughing huff and reached for two wine glasses. After filling them, he offered one to Alex, who took it with a wide smile. 

As Strand cooked, they chatted about everything and nothing. They talked about the tapes, Strand told her a bit about Charlie and his time with her in Italy. Alex told him more about what had happened while he had been gone. 

Soon, two steaming plates of chicken alfredo stood on the table along the refilled glasses of wine. 

“Impressive.” Alex said as she sat down opposite Strand. 

“It’s a fairly easy dish to prepare.” Strand said and took a sip of his wine. “I-”

“Richard.” Alex leaned forward. “I gave you a compliment. Say thank you.”

For a moment, she thought she’d overstepped some line. But then Strand laughed and smiled.

“Thank you.” His eyes sparkled behind his glasses. 

They ate quietly, neither of them having realised just how hungry they were. Alex wasn’t surprised to find that the food was absolutely delicious. Of course Strand was a good cook. Was there anything he wasn’t good at? Human interactions, a small voice said in the back of her head. It sounded suspiciously like Nic. 

“Alex.” Strand was the one who broke the silence. 

“Hm?” Alex said and looked up. Strand was looking down at his food, pushing a piece of chicken around. 

“I wanted to thank you.” He glanced up at her. “For earlier today. That you didn’t-”

He seemed to be searching for the right word. 

“Run off?” 

“Yes.” He let out a sigh. “It means a lot.”

“Of course. I’m here whenever you need me.” Alex reached over the table and put her hand over his. “I’m happy you felt like you could tell me.”

When Strand turned his hand over to grasp hers and intertwine their fingers, Alex’s heart did a weird little somersault.  His hand was warm, his skin a bit rough. Their eyes met. There was something in Strand’s eyes. Something she hadn’t seen before. Desire? 

Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine that made her brave enough to stand up and lean over the table. She stopped a few inches from Strand’s face, giving him the option to pull back, to end it before it even began. 

But he didn’t. 

Strand closed the gap between them and their lips met. 

* * *

They lay together, tired and sated. Alex’s head was on Strand’s chest and she listened to the beating of his heart.

“I had forgotten what it felt like.” Strand suddenly mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” Alex said. 

“This. All of this.”

“You’ve been alone since Coralee?” It felt a bit weird to bring up his wife as they lay together, post-coitus. 

“Does that surprise you?”

“No, not really.”

Strand chuckled and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. The room was instantly swallowed by darkness. 

Alex could feel her eyelids get heavy. After a day’s hard work, a wonderful meal and pretty great sex, she was exhausted. She felt like she might even be able to sleep. 

“Richard?” She breathed out into the dark. 

“Hm?” He sounded like he was half-asleep. 

“Please don’t disappear again.” She meant it in two ways: please don’t disappear for three months, making be believe something has happened to you. And: please don’t become sick. She knew that no matter how hard he worked on it, there was a chance he could get worse again. But she wanted to say it anyway. 

“I can’t promise that.” He whispered. “But I’ll do my best.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> I'd love you forever if you left a kudos and a comment <3


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